


Mentori

by silkstocking



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018-2019 NHL Season, Dallas Stars, Developing Relationship, Hockey-Related Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-29 07:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17198855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkstocking/pseuds/silkstocking
Summary: At least there's something he’s better at than Miro.





	Mentori

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Feileacan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feileacan/gifts).



Julius is sitting on his bed in the hotel room in Colorado when Miro gets back, losing at Fortnite and stewing.

"Hey, Julle," Miro says. He dumps his coat on the chair and turns to smile at Julius. "Did you have a good evening?"

Julius did not have a good evening.

"It was fine," he says, and turns his eyes back on the game. Fucking shit, Miro made him lose. Again.

"Fortnite?" Miro asks, perching on the edge of Julius's bed and trying to get a look at his phone.

Julius angles it away from him. "Not now, Hessu."

"Okay then," Miro says, unfazed. "I'm going to take a shower."

He smiles again before heading to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes along the way. Julius doesn't really understand why he's so fucking perky all the time. There are a lot of things Julius doesn't really understand about this situation. Like why Esa is suddenly taking the rookies out for dinner without him.

The thing is: Julius was going to have a breakout season. That was the plan. All those #FreeHonka signs he saw last year, when he was warming the bench or the fucking press box, he was going to prove them right. He was going to come out guns blazing, fight Esa and Klinger for ice time, show them what he could do. But then Miro had turned up, fresh from winning the fucking Rautakallio at 18, and cracked the lineup his first year at camp without having to spend time riding buses in the A. Not even Esa with his own shiny trophy had managed that one. So now Julius's plans for a breakout year are shot to shit, and the worst part, the painful part, the part that really creeps into Julius's brain and digs its claws in late at night when he's tossing and turning, is that he knows Miro is better than him.

Julius isn't an idiot. This season, his minutes have dwindled again, but nobody wants to free Honka any more.

He starts another Fortnite game, and gets eliminated almost instantly. Fuck.

Miro comes back into the room in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist. At least Julius has clear skin going for him, he thinks uncharitably, eyeing the line of acne running down Miro's back. When Miro drops the towel on the floor and bends to root around in his suitcase for underwear, though, Julius can't help the way his eyes slide down to Miro's ass.

Miro turns, and grins when he sees Julius looking. "You wanna?"

So that's the other thing about Julius's season.

Miro's mouth is warm and he tastes of beer. Apparently Esa has been buying him drinks tonight. Julius bites at Miro’s lip, and Miro gives a hot little whimper that goes straight to Julius’s dick. He runs his hands over Miro’s naked skin, digging his fingernails in to feel Miro shiver against him. The lines of Miro’s body are familiar to him now, after weeks of sharing a locker room, sharing space on the road, sharing a bed late at night after games when Julius has energy to burn and Miro lets him take control.

Right now Miro's squirming in Julius’s lap, pressing his bare dick against the fabric of Julius’s sweats. It sends a spike of something possessive down Julius’s spine, having him like this: naked and obviously turned on before Julius has removed a single piece of clothing.

But. With a supreme effort, he pulls away from the kiss and says, “I thought you were getting this from Esa now.”

“What?” Miro says. “Julle—”

“I saw on Insta,” Julius says. “You and Esa and Roope. Mentoring.”

“He didn't ask you?” Miro says, sounding genuinely confused. “I thought you were going to watch football with the others.”

Julius shakes his head.

“Oh. Well, maybe Esa didn't think you needed a mentor.”

“He didn't think I could help be the mentor either.” That comes out more whiny than Julius intended.

“Oh,” Miro says again. He kisses Julius’s neck and says, “Sorry. I wish he had asked you. It would have been more fun if you were there.”

Fuck. Julius is a dick, and Miro’s way too nice. He never rises to the fights Julius tries to pick.

Julius slides his fingers into Miro’s hair and guides his head up so he can kiss him again, open mouthed. Though Miro had wilted a little, he seems to come alive again under Julius’s touch, gasping Julius's name, his hands plucking at Julius’s pants. He pushes forward until he overbalances Julius, sending them both down onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Julius gets his other hand around Miro's cock. He still hasn't taken any of his clothes off. 

Afterwards, Julius thinks about how Miro's always hot for it, the way he moans into Julius's mouth when they make out, or smiles kind of weird and soft at Julius right after he comes. He would probably even let Julius fuck him, if he asked. That's a hell of a thought: Miro, on his hands and knees, clenching around Julius’s cock. 

Yeah, Miro’s definitely way too nice. Julius isn't going to let that stop him, though.

*

Their plane routines have been shaken up with so many guys out and so many call-ups coming and going. Julius moves around, sitting with different people, learning new card games from the Russians and watching movies with Janny and letting Pitty show him pictures of his kid. He doesn't want to get a reputation for only hanging out with Finns, as if there are borders in the locker room that can't be crossed. There aren't, and he doesn't need those guys as a security blanket; he’s been standing on his own two feet for years. Still, it's nice to wrestle with Esa sometimes like they used to when they were younger and dumber, or to chill with his tablet next to Miro.

Miro’s so collected that it's easy to forget he's only nineteen. Julius remembers, though, when he sees Miro press his nose against the glass with awe as each new big city appears beneath them, alien spaces of straight lines and grids or twinkling lights sprawling off into pitch-dark deserts. He remembers that feeling in himself, how hard it was to comprehend the scales here at first for a boy from Jyväskylä where only 150,000 people live.

One time, Miro catches him looking, meeting Julius's gaze in the reflection in the glass. The tiny smile he gives makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. Julius looks away, and ignores the weird, tight feeling in his chest.

*

On Independence Day, Roope gets sent down again, which kind of puts a dampener on their plans. They go out for food anyway, just Julius and Miro and Esa. It's not traditional, but none of them can cook (and even though Kari's still in town, his cooking is somehow even worse). Esa tells Miro a lot of bullshit stories about Julius at World Juniors that Julius can't stop laughing long enough to refute. That thing about the champagne is definitely not true. It wasn't even champagne, anyway; it was bad prosecco.

"Was he the same at Worlds?" Esa asks Miro, and Julius feels a little like he's been doused in ice water. He doesn't know how to say that they didn't hang out much, that he'd already been jealous of Miro's ice time, that embarrassing losses to Denmark and Germany followed by a 5th place exit didn't really compare to the high of winning gold.

"Denmark is a boring country," Miro tells Esa. "Not even drunk Julle could make it interesting."

"Cheers to that," Julius says, and downs half of his beer.

Esa frowns at him a little, which is mostly just annoying. He was the one who was just talking about Julius being drunk and dumb, and now he's giving him the mentor face. Julius had been playing the season in Swift Current already the year he'd won gold with Esa. He's been in North America the longest out of all of them. Esa himself had looked to him when he couldn't find the English word for something those first couple of years. He doesn't like the feeling now that he's standing still, watching the others sprint past him.

When Esa goes to the bathroom, Julius raises a questioning eyebrow at Miro. Miro grins and nods, and at least that's the one thing in Julius's life that's easy.

*

Julius spends a lot of time watching Miro work his charm on people. Not on purpose. But he hasn't played a game since that night in Colorado, and being scratched gives a guy a lot of time to people-watch.

He's noticed that Miro has this way of smiling at people, a little bashfully, like the perfect picture of the humble Finnish sportsman. Julius has never been good at being humble. He's always been a little too straightforward, a little too confident for ice hockey's tastes... and he's never been good at smiling, either. Miro seems to do it as naturally as breathing. Julius is jealous of a lot of things, but he's most jealous of that. He watches Miro drop his head a little and smile up at the reporters when they crowd around him after practice, getting them laughing at his jokes, even the ones that don't make sense.

It honestly sucks to go out with the team after wins and losses he wasn't involved in. At the same time, Julius doesn't want to be the next Jamie Oleksiak, so he works hard on not letting his frustration show. He watches the game instead of fucking around on his phone, and actually pays attention to what's going on. In the bar afterwards, he puts on his game face and does his best to channel 'great locker room guy', buying drinks for good plays and joining in with commiserations over posts hit and shitty calls.

Julius looks up from listening to Segs complain about being snakebit, and catches Miro watching him from across the booth. When Segs finally stands up to get another drink, Miro has worked his way around until he's pressed right against Julius’s side.

"You're so nice," Miro says into Julius’s ear. His cheeks look a little flushed.

"I'm not," Julius tells him.

"You are," Miro says. "I've seen how you are with the guys. You're a good listener." He's giving Julius that bashful smile of his, but one of his hands has slid down under the table to brush Julius’s dick through his dress pants. Julius jumps, but no one is looking; everyone stops paying attention when they speak Finnish. Miro's like a dog with a bone when he gets an idea in his head, so he does it again, and again, pulling away every time Julius starts to squirm. By the time they Uber back to Julius's place, Julius can't even work up enough of a fuck to give if anyone notices they left together.

"Fuck, Hessu, Miro," he gasps as soon as they're inside, his hands scrabbling on Miro's back. “You're a fucking tease.”

The door handle is digging painfully into Julius’s hip. Miro’s looming over him, using his height advantage to press Julius back against it. They really shouldn't be doing this here; Julius doesn't need an injury to take him off the roster when he's barely on it as it is. But, fuck, Miro's been edging him the whole night and his dick is so hard he might actually explode of blue balls.

Miro shoves his hand unceremoniously down Julius's pants and laughs into Julius's hair when he groans and bucks up against him.

"I hate you. Why does everyone think you're the nice one?" Julius says, and then, "Fuck, don't stop."

Miro laughs again, and twists his wrist, and Julius bites down on Miro's shoulder as he comes.

*

Julius finds himself slotted back into the lineup halfway through December. He gets an assist his first game back, setting up Faks for a sweet tip-in. The game itself is a tough loss after a blown lead, but still. Baby steps. Miro, obviously, scores a goal, because he has to be better than Julius in every way. At least Julius wasn't on the ice for all the goals against.

They fly out after the game. Julius sits with Faks and Hanzi and Polly and tests out his limited knowledge of Czech swearwords to complain about their three game losing streak. The trip to the hotel goes by in a haze of lights past bus windows and a murmur of conversation; Julius had almost forgotten the feeling of bone-tiredness that playing twenty minutes of a hockey game brings. Fuck, he's missed it. It makes him slower tonight than usual, slow enough that Miro's already in the room by the time Julius gets there.

"Great goal tonight," Julius tells him.

Miro smiles. "Thanks. You had a nice assist."

"Yeah," Julius says, because fucking right he did. He flops down onto his usual bed, and lets himself finally breathe out. 

Neither of them speaks again, but later, when the lights are out, Miro crawls into Julius's bed and kisses him breathless, pressing his fingers down into the bruise Simek left along Julius's ribs.

*

They lose in fucking Colorado, the fourth game in a row, and Miro's not smiling any more.

*

In the first game back at home, Julius sits in the press box and feels the idea that he's going to get traded settle onto his shoulders like falling snow. He's scratched for a guy who just cleared waivers to be sent to Cedar Park. Klinger is almost ready to come back. There might not be a space on this team for Julius any more.

The realisation is weirdly freeing.

He goes down to the room after, fist bumps the guys in congratulation as they troop in, and hangs out with Miro as he strips off his gear. Miro chatters at him about the post he hit and Julius lets it wash over him: the minutiae of the game, the now familiar cadences of Miro’s voice.

“Has anybody ever eaten you out?” Julius asks abruptly in Finnish, after Esa leaves.

Miro splutters halfway through a sentence and blushes. “What? No. Never.”

“Good,” Julius says. “You should go shower.”

At least there's something he’s better at than Miro.

Julius drives them back to his place after. Miro keeps shooting him looks like he wants to say something, but for once he seems to be speechless. They're barely over the threshold when Julius tackles Miro. Miro's halfway through kicking off his shoes and he laughs a little, teasing about the eagerness, but sobers when Julius doesn't laugh back.

"Hey, are you okay?" Miro asks.

"Fine. I just want you," Julius says.

"Fuck," Miro says, and then they're kissing, and nobody needs to see whatever stupid feelings are written across Julius's face.

He gets Miro naked on his hands and knees on Julius's bed. Miro shivers when Julius spreads his cheeks, and makes the hottest little whimper as Julius licks over his hole. He tastes of locker room soap; the familiar scent of it seems to fill Julius's nose, from Miro's skin, from his own hands. Julius starts slow, getting Miro wet, waiting until he relaxes under Julius's touch before going to work with lips and tongue and the scrape of teeth. Once Miro's writhing and pushing back against Julius, it's easy to replace his tongue with a spit-slick finger. Miro moans, his head dropping down to the pillow, and Julius adds another finger. He strokes over Miro’s prostate in a long, slow grind until Miro’s bucking desperately forward, trying to get friction on his leaking cock.

“Please,” Miro practically sobs. “Julle, please.”

“You can do it,” Julius murmurs into Miro’s skin. “It’ll be so good this way. I promise.”

Miro’s quivering all over by the time his orgasm shudders through him, his cock completely untouched. Julius kisses his back, and whispers terms of endearment he’d be embarrassed by if Miro was in any fit state to listen.

He heads to the bathroom to swill some mouthwash around his mouth, and when he comes back, Miro’s lying on his back, looking sleepy and sated. He reaches for Julius and Julius goes, lets himself be kissed and petted and sloppily jerked off.

“That was so fucking good,” Miro says, after. 

 _I bet Esa’s mentorship isn't this good_ , Julius wants to say. He kisses Miro instead.

*

They lose, and win, and lose again, and Miro smiles at Julius, soft and sincere, with Julius’s spunk cooling on his fingers. 

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he asks, and Julius doesn't know how to say he'll stay as long as he can. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [maybe we bleed all our lives (Mentori remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18356972) by [sebfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebfish/pseuds/sebfish)




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